


Bad Things Happen To Good People

by CircusFreakVi



Series: Bad Things Happen To Good People (Bingo) [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Addiction, Anorexia, Appendicitis, Blood, Burns, Depression, Dissociation, F/M, Gaslighting, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Isolation, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, OCD, Panic Attacks, Pneumonia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starvation, Touch-Starved, Traumatic Touch Aversion, Withdrawal, broken ribs, domestic abuse, heatstroke, hospital stay, painful wound cleaning, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusFreakVi/pseuds/CircusFreakVi
Summary: The voices in the classroom sounded distant and his ears were almost ringing. When he managed to pull his eyes away from the clock and glanced at one of the kids speaking, he noticed their words seemed to delay like a poorly dubbed foreign film. Everyone’s words jumbled together and some students moved to their seats quickly while some moved in slow motion. He blinked, moving his glasses and rubbing his eyes with hands that felt light like they weren’t there at all. The ticking in the room echoed in his skull and his brain felt swollen.He looked at the clock again and noticed it hadn’t seemed to move an inch from when he last looked at it. Nothing about that clock seemed to have moved. It was as if he was dreaming.





	1. Dissociation

This was a strange feeling.

Kyoya didn’t know what was happening, he woke up feeling fine, but now. Now, as he sat in his classroom staring at the clock, he felt just odd. Something didn’t feel right. Something didn’t make sense and Kyoya couldn’t exactly explain it.

The voices in the classroom sounded distant and his ears were almost ringing. When he managed to pull his eyes away from the clock and glanced at one of the kids speaking, he noticed their words seemed to delay like a poorly dubbed foreign film. Everyone’s words jumbled together and some students moved to their seats quickly while some moved in slow motion. He blinked, moving his glasses and rubbing his eyes with hands that felt light like they weren’t there at all. The ticking in the room echoed in his skull and his brain felt swollen.

He looked at the clock again and noticed it hadn’t seemed to move an inch from when he last looked at it. Nothing about that clock seemed to have moved. Kyoya huffed deeply as he looked forward, unable to focus on the lesson. The teacher moved slowly through the room and he didn’t know if he recognized her face. Unsettling. Everything about her face and in this room seemed flat and cartoon-like, like it wasn’t real or like he was being shown this setting on a tv screen.

That was a way to describe this feeling. It was like he was watching a terrible movie. Nothing around him seemed to make him feel like he was in reality. It was almost like a dream.

There was nothing else Kyoya could really focus on until he was in the hallways, walking to his next class. The sunlight coming in through the windows cut into his vision.

A large chunk of time seemed to be missing as he came out of this feeling in the third music room, no one else around him. The sound of the door opening and greetings from a soft voice really pulled him out of his thoughts. Kyoya couldn’t hear his muscles moving in his body but he could hear Haruhi’s voice saying hello and asking how he was.

“How much time do you have?” He scoffed, joking about this eerie feeling he had gone through for almost the entire day. This response had earned him a questioning hum. Before he knew it, Haruhi was pulling a chair out to sit down in front of him. She leaned in, giving off the impression that she wanted to hear whatever Kyoya had to say.

Her eyebrow arched as she tilted her head to the side a bid, curious. They way her chocolate brown eyes flicked to the clock and back to meet Kyoya, it made him feel as if he was being interrogated. But he wasn’t quite anxious over it. “Well, if you wanna talk before anyone else gets here, we only have a few minutes. Do you wanna talk about something?” She sounded genuinely interested and concerned about his wellbeing. God, she was sweet. Sickly sweet like those chocolate brown eyes that loomed over him.

There was this sense of trust he got from her. Kyoya knew he could tell Haruhi anything and she’d keep it to herself if he asked her to. Problem was, how could he explain what he had just gone through? Also, what if he was wrong about this trust?

“How would I even begin to explain it?” He said, his mind switching from one subject to another. “This entire day, up until the last few moments, have felt unreal. Quite honestly, I can’t remember most of the day.”

Haruhi’s curious expression hadn’t changed as she lifted her hand to rest against Kyoya’s forehead. He almost swatted her hand away before she pulled it away, simply telling him he hadn’t felt as if he had a fever. Of course, he would have known if he had a fever. He justs didn’t know what had caused him to space out like that, and for so long.

“What do you remember?” She asked, leaning back. Haruhi really wanted to help Kyoya and he was thankful for that. “You said nothing felt real, so tell me about that.”

It took a moment for Kyoya to gather his thoughts. How much could he remember and explain at the same time? He told her as much as he could, however, watching her nod as she took in everything he said. Everything from his swollen brain to his misunderstanding of time in those hours was taken in and considered by Haruhi. She was left wondering what it had been as the other hosts came piling in. Girls followed shortly after and the host club was open for business.

This would have to wait until later.

And when later came, Kyoya was told goodbyes by everyone he had become friends with through this club. Tamaki had asked him if he was alright, telling him he had seemed different all day and Kyoya could only brush it away, telling Tamaki he was only tired but he’d try to go to bed earlier tonight. This earned him a smile from the blond.

One person stayed. Haruhi had stayed behind, bringing her phone over to Kyoya with a look in her eyes that made Kyoya wonder what she had to show him. When she showed him the screen, he saw the word ‘Dissociation’ in bold letters. “I’m not a doctor. In fact, I think your father would know about this better than me, but it seems to match up with everything you told me.” She had allowed him to scroll through the article the pulled up. He read through it, both teens remaining quiet for a moment before Haruhi spoke up. “I saw that it usually comes out of intense trauma. But it also happens when someone gets so overwhelmed, their brain just decides to heal itself in a dream-like state.” She looked up at him, expression behind her eyes gentle and calming.

Her arm rested against his own, pulling Kyoya’s attention away from the article. She was right. The article seemed to explain most of what he felt. He would definitely need a second opinion, though.

“You know, if this feeling ever comes back, you can always talk to me when you feel you’re up to it.” Her voice was sweet and calming, pulling Kyoya in waves of reassurance. He nodded in response, handing her phone back.

They had made their promise that Kyoya would go to Haruhi after any time he was temporarily removed from reality. With this agreement, they had given each other silent goodbyes. He knew he could go to her if he even began to feel spacy and, even if he had no idea if it’d happen again, he was glad he was sure he could go to Haruhi.


	2. Traumatic Touch Aversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuyumi’s little brother, the eight-year-old who loved to give her hugs and enjoyed when she played with her hair, had become a recluse and barricaded himself in his bedroom. Kyoya had started moving away or flinching when his brothers or father would move to touch his shoulder or pat his head when he was leaving for school.
> 
> He wanted nothing to do with the physical touch from anyone. No one was allowed to touch him. Now after what she did to him. Those gentle touches were the opposite from her rough punishments but his skin still burned and ached when he felt any sort of physical contact.

The house Kyoya was put into belonged to a stranger, a woman who he didn’t know. She was large compared to him. She was tall and round with puffy cheeks and darker skin. Her short hair was kept in a tight ponytail so it wouldn’t get in her face. He didn’t know her and he knew his family didn’t know her. Why would they associate themselves with a woman like her? Beyond her being his current caretaker, she could only really be known to the Ootori’s as a commoner trying to make some extra money off of kids in the foster system.

Her house was smaller when compared to his own, but he guessed it was quite large for commoners. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a backyard, two floors. His room was on the second floor at the end of the hall. He shared it with a teenage girl who smoked in the evening when he would try to sleep. She looked different from the woman and her son, lighter skin and blonde hair. Just a little down the hall was where the woman’s son stayed.

Kyoya liked that boy. He was nicer. He was also older than Kyoya, about five years older, and he made an effort in making Kyoya feel at home. He’d sit with the youngest Ootori on the couch and help him with his homework and offer him juice or water whenever his mother wasn’t around. He had no control over his mother, though. He couldn’t stop her from anything she did when she got home and Kyoya knew that.

Belts, hot sauce, and her long nails had been her main source of punishment. That and shouting profanities at Kyoya. The only time she wouldn’t yell at him, wouldn’t breathe a word to him, would be when his family got to call the home once a week. Her eyes would bore into him, though. It was like she was waiting for him to say something wrong, something she could take as him telling his parents what she did to him, so she could blow up on his when the call ended. She’d grab his face and dig those fake nails into his cheeks whenever he said something she didn’t think he should say. She’d get in his face and tell him to shut up or tell him he was a baby. She’d swap him upside his head or drag him up the stairs by his arm to put him in his room for the rest of the night. She was a ticking time bomb and Kyoya never knew when she’d go off. He just knew that no one would be able to help him when she did.

When Kyoya had come back home from the hell hole that was that foster home, he wanted nothing to do with physical touch. He pulled away when his sister played with his hair and he squirmed out of the grip of his brothers and parents when they hugged him. It had only been two months of hell but his brain still sent alarm signals when anyone went to touch him. Everyone had noticed it, too.

Fuyumi’s little brother, the eight-year-old who loved to give her hugs and enjoyed when she played with her hair, had become a recluse and barricaded himself in his bedroom. Kyoya had started moving away or flinching when his brothers or father would move to touch his shoulder or pat his head when he was leaving for school.

He didn’t want anyone to touch him at first. Though, over time, he had begun to let only a few people make physical contact. Slowly but surely, his sister was able to give him hugs and his brothers had been able to place their hands on him. They had quit fighting as they grew and the affection between himself and his brothers or father became minimal. Kyoya saw his mother less an less until she didn’t come around at all so the only physical affection he got came from his sister.

Then Tamaki came along. His need for touching shocked Kyoya, almost made him cower away. This boy, who was a stranger to him, would grab him and pull him everywhere with him and hug him tightly after becoming convinced they were best friends. It had caused Kyoya to become a recluse in his home again, shocking him back to this state of mind that wasn’t used to the sudden affection. It went completely unnoticed by the blond until he put his arm around Kyoya’s shoulders and felt him flinch.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, lavender eyes switching from sheer joy to pure concern. Kyoya had no way to explain it so he could only nod. Tamaki didn’t seem to let up, though.

That stubbornness had pulled words from Kyoya’s throat, almost like word vomit. Tamaki was strangely good at seeing right through Kyoya, even if it took a while to get a clear picture. It was for the better that Kyoya tells him, though. It was better to explain why he didn’t like being touched in hopes Tamaki would take the message and stop touching him. But, again, Tamaki was stubborn and he wanted Kyoya to feel he could trust him. So, after that, Tamaki treated Kyoya like a small animal until the raven-haired teen became more comfortable with the contact.

Just like with his family, Tamaki gained Kyoya’s trust over a lengthy amount of time. It took a year for him to become comfortable with soft hugs and Tamaki had become the only one to be able to hold Kyoya’s face in his hands without the other teen pulling away and shutting down.

Kyoya still didn’t touch people or let others touch him, though. He still felt extremely uncomfortable and anxious about being touched. He still had his days where absolutely no one could touch him, not even his sister. However, Kyoya was working on it. He was slowly working on becoming better with small forms of physical contact, shaking hands and pats on the back.

There will always be days when people cannot touch him, though. There will always be hurdles and Kyoya understood that. These were just the effects that came from traumatic events and he knew he’d never stop working on it.


	3. Painful Wound Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rarely did the Ootori boys ever fight, but when they did, they were ruthless. Different scrapes and bruises littered Kyoya’s face. Blood and alcohol mixed and dripped down Kyoya's face, cooling his warm skin. Everything ached and throbbed and it was all a useless result of some petty fight that had a pointless catalyst and no winner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story is a little shorter (I think) than the others and it seems a bit shippier than a lot of the other stories but it was all I could really do for this story. The next two chapters are quite shippy as well, but they're also very twisted when they're connected to the plot.

“Shit-” Kyoya gasped, pulling back quickly as the sting of alcohol sunk into the bloody scrape on his cheek. The alcohol mixed with the blood, gently dripping down his pale skin, pooling just under his chin, leaving a red streak down his face like the stains tears left.

Tamaki muttered a gentle apology, leaning forward to wipe away the blood and peroxide on Kyoya’s face. He kept at his work, dapping a cotton pad doused in alcohol against the scrape on Kyoya’s cheek until it was clean. From then, he went on to press a clean and dry cotton pad to the mark. “I didn’t know you and your brothers could be so violent with each other,” Tamaki said, examining the slice in Kyoya’s lip.

There were different scrapes and bruises that littered Kyoya’s face. They were the result of a fight Kyoya had gotten in with his second brother, Akito. Rarely did the Ootori boys ever fight, but when they did, they were ruthless. He couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about. All Kyoya knew was no one won and both were left in bad shape.

“We rarely are,” Kyoya replied, wincing as Tamaki dabbed a new cotton pad that had been dipped in water against his split lip. “Barely fight, too.” Kyoya pulled back again, flinching at the shock of pain as Tamaki’s hand pressed into a bruise. “Jesus, can you stop furthering my pain, please?” He snapped. His voice was sharp and venomous, though it cooled down as the boy sighed deeply. He leaned forward again, allowing Tamaki to go back to work.

“Sorry.” Tamaki apologized, sulking expression pulling at his handsome features. Before Kyoya knew it, Tamaki smiled and his eyes shone brightly. He had some sort of idea. “You know, Momma kisses always make injuries feel better.”

At that, Kyoya arched a brow. He hadn’t looked happy through his entire time being treated. He had looked and felt quite annoyed. This only drove the annoyance deeper into him, making Kyoya roll his eyes. “Should I care?”

“Yes.”

“Why should I care then, Tamaki?” His tone of voice was sharp once again.

If this was any time to share his minimal medical knowledge, this was it. Tamaki hummed softly as he kept wiping the blood from Kyoya’s face and cleaning his wounds. He was thinking about how to describe the phenomena until it struck him in the head. “There was a study done that showed kisses actually eases pain. Something psychological.” Just when Tamaki had started explaining it, though, he lost his train of thought. That was the best he could do in the current situation but it still struck Kyoya’s interest.

“Is that so?” Kyoya asked, hissing as Tamaki accidentally pulled one of the cuts on his face open. There was another apology, this time frantic, and a nod from Tamaki. He looked completely hopeful and Kyoya could only roll his eyes. He was sore and would try anything to ease his pain. “Fine, go ahead and try it.”

After a moment of hesitation, Tamaki smiled and nodded. He held Kyoya’s face straight, earning a wince from the raven-haired male. As he held his face, Tamaki leaned in and pressed light kisses to the darkest bruises. Kyoya’s sensitive injuries still reacted, aching just slightly less as they did before. Tamaki kissed the scrapes and cuts, even going so far to press a kiss against Kyoya’s busted lip. As much as he hated to admit it, Kyoya actually felt a little better. It was nothing major, for sure, but Kyoya didn’t feel as bad as he did. But Tamaki went back to cleaning those wounds, bringing the pain right back to Kyoya’s face.

Minutes later of stinging and complaining, Tamaki finally finished his work with a couple small band-aids and more kisses. He had also suggested ice but Kyoya wasn’t completely focusing on that. He couldn’t help but notice the pain was starting to subside after those kisses.


	4. Starvation (Pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaoru loved Kyoya.
> 
> Love. He wanted to love Kyoya. Kaoru wanted to keep loving Kyoya and keep showing his appreciation for him but it was becoming harder and harder as Kyoya got emptier and emptier. Empty of food, empty of energy, empty of emotions.

Kaoru could remember the nights he would spend with Kyoya. 

He remembered those evenings of just exploring each other, his fingers brushing against the smooth skin over hard hipbones. Thinner, longer, cold fingers pushed through red hair and pillowy lips pressed against collarbones that stuck out from pale skin. Those were nights of worship; kisses on skin that were as sweet as honey and words of praise that Kaoru wished stuck in Kyoya’s brain beyond their nights together.

Sometimes it seemed Kyoya didn’t even believe Kaoru’s praises when they were together.

No, Kaoru knew Kyoya didn’t believe him.

How else could you justify Kyoya’s steadily thinning frame?

Realistically, Kaoru knew there was much more to this than compliments and glorification over Kyoya’s body. He knew there was some sort of motivation to get thinner and thinner and eating less but he just didn’t know what Kyoya’s drive was. If he knew, maybe he could bring himself to understand. Perhaps he could figure out just how to help the man he had grown to love.

Love. He wanted to love Kyoya. Kaoru wanted to keep loving Kyoya and keep showing his appreciation for him but it was becoming harder and harder as Kyoya got emptier and emptier. Empty of food, empty of energy, empty of emotions. God, Kyoya seemed to feel nothing anymore. He’s always had issues with depressive and numb episodes, Kaoru knew that and helped as much as he could with it, but he hadn’t expected it to get this bad. Was it the lack of energy that made his lack of feeling worse?

Kaoru could only wonder about everything as he sat with Kyoya. The elder boy went along working, bony fingers tapping against his keyboard. Kaoru was sat across from him. He took in the thin, ghostly form in front of him. Pale skin, dark circles around tired and emotionless eyes, and sunken cheeks. He looked like an eerie spirit in a film.

He could only stare.

That body he had seen so many times had changed from slim to sickly thin. Starvation took a toll fast and Kaoru had hardly any time to notice it before it was too late. He was scared to hug Kyoya or hold his hand, fearful of snapping potentially brittle bones. Kaoru missed running his fingers through dark locks, though he gave it up for fear of bringing some back when he pulled his hand back. The nights they spent together were spent sleeping or watching movies or reading to each other, absolutely no more physical performances of love. They didn’t go on dinner dates or meet up for coffee or tea like they used to because Kyoya was controlling himself too much.

Control.

That could be it. Could it be? Kaoru had always known Kyoya as an individual who planned everything and would prefer being in charge so he had something he could control. Maybe it was from lack of control in his own life, possibly with his parents or his position in the family. Kaoru didn’t know what it could really be. It could possibly not be for control at all. Kaoru was starting to analyze his boyfriend and it was making him crazy; he was obsessed with finding out why Kyoya was so obsessed with starving himself.

It was sad. It was depressing. Kaoru felt as if this was a hopeless worry but he knew, deep down, that there was a purpose to this. He could try to help Kyoya get better. Kaoru could be with Kyoya through this struggle.

He made his decision as he moved closer, placing his hand on Kyoya’s to get him to stop typing. It was like slow motion when Kaoru leaned up to press a chaste kiss on those lips be loved. The taste of mint from gum, something Kyoya seemed to be living off of, stuck around as he pulled away. He’d stay with Kyoya and be there for those times he struggled, like now. Kyoya was clearly struggling and needed help, he just refused to ask for any.

This Kyoya in front of him was the Kyoya he had fallen in love with, just a little lost in the black abyss of his brain. With effort from the both of them, Kaoru hoped he could pull Kyoya back and help him recover. He looked so weak but Kaoru knew that he could help Kyoya feel okay again. Those steel eyes were cold but they could get the light back that they once had. His figure was brittle and falling apart but they could work on getting him healthy again. Kyoya didn’t have to be sick forever. Kaoru didn’t have to watch his boyfriend slowly kill himself by starving.

Kaoru had to try, had to hold onto hope that he’d get his boyfriend back.


	5. Starvation (Pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya didn't know what was always causing him to get so low all of the time. He had a life people dreamed of having; a surplus of money, wonderful friends, a happy relationship with his boyfriend, good grades (that sometimes fall but he always pulls them back up). He had a good life. Realistically, he shouldn't feel like shit this often and this badly.

Control was the reason Kyoya had begun this habit. If he could even call it a habit. 

Depression was pulling him lower and lower in this thick ocean of sickly molasses, setting his grades to flames and forcing him into isolation. Everything felt as if it was crumbling around him and he needed something to ground himself. School work was starting to stress him out like never before, people were noticing his constant absences, and he was beginning to feel less motivated to even try to fix himself. He managed, however, to find a way to gain control and get his life back on track. 

It seemed illogical, in a way, to focus on food to get back on track with grades and social situations and things of that nature but Kyoya needed something. This was that something that could reel him in. While he knew of the effects this sort of thing could have on him, Kyoya was certain this wouldn't turn into anything serious. 

This would be brief. 

Just regain control and get that motivation back. 

It was hard at first, putting such harsh restrictions on himself at first, but he became used to the hunger pains and the sudden loss of appetite. He was used to filling up on cold water and mints and gum. Over the course of a couple months, his makeshift disciplinary actions got him back on track. Kyoya was turning in school work on time and finishing his finances for the host club within a reasonable time-frame. But he was exhausting himself, running on E. It was motivation, however. It had started with no dinner if he didn't finish the assignments he was given that day from school. Over time, as he cut different food types and even whole meals out of his diet, he became more controlling over his own body and what he put in it and when and why. 

Because of his restrictions, Kyoya got deeper and deeper into the whole he was certain he could get out of as soon as he decided to. The most fucked up thing about this was that Kyoya knew he was falling again. He knew and he sort of liked it. It was incredibly fucked up to think about how much he liked the hunger pains. He liked knowing how many calories were in the black coffee he had for breakfast every morning and the green tea and orange slices he had for dinner every day. He liked being cold and seeing his nail beds turn blue and purple. This was because he was sure he still had some control over this. He assumed he could still quit this whenever he'd like.

Then his mental state plummeted like a meteor to the Earth. It rocked his world, completely, the sudden wave of sickly black tar that drowned his brain in negativity. The feeling of hope and control he had crashed almost overnight and Kyoya was back to being out of control. To try and regain it once again, however, Kyoya cut out food altogether. Nothing else was helping and this had gotten him back before. This was almost a punishment for letting himself get so low once more. No more drowning, no more pathetic depression or worthless thoughts. Kyoya could get back to how he had been before. His grades could get better again. This was the only way he knew how to come back and be the same person he had been before with a few tweaks and new parts. No more green tea and orange slices for dinner. Now it was cold water and ice chips. They made his brain think he was actually eating and it made the lack of food more tolerable. 

Kyoya didn't know what was always causing him to get so low all of the time. He had a life people dreamed of having; a surplus of money, wonderful friends, a happy relationship with his boyfriend, good grades (that sometimes fall but he always pulls them back up). He had a good life. Realistically, he shouldn't feel like shit this often and this badly. He also supposed he shouldn't be starving himself from a feeling of lack of control, but he just couldn't help it. His brain felt black and rotten and this was all he could do, in his mind, to fix it without bothering anyone. 

But it did bother people.

Everyone had noticed the dropping weight and constant fatigue. The people around him weren't as clueless as Kyoya believed them to be. It was actually kind of annoying after a while because Kyoya was certain he didn't have an issue. Tamaki, however, began asking how he was every day. Kaoru would make comments about how much he loved him, always with a little more emphasis when he said he loved everything about him. Haruhi would ask Kyoya if he was okay and would tell him he could speak to her whenever he needed. Hikaru would comment on his thinning frame, point blank. Hikaru and Haruhi were the most upfront out of his friend group. Of course, Mori didn't say much but there was an obvious look of understanding and worry when their eyes met. Hani would offer cake and tea which Kyoya would always politely decline. Everyone noticed. He couldn't stop them from noticing and he couldn't stop himself from noticing their changing behavior with him. What hurts the most was Kaoru's change. 

His eyes grew sadder when they came together and Kaoru would brush his warm fingertips over Kyoya's hipbones, skin cold to the touch like a walking corpse. Soft lips hesitantly press against lips that are nearly cracking and bleeding. Their dinner and coffee dates together happened less often, both opting to spend the night together under the covers. The secrecy that came with Kyoya's habits also seemed to drive a wedge between him and his boyfriend.

Kyoya can hardly imagine how much Kaoru must be hating him more and more with every day that passes. 

Over time, Kyoya could only accept he was losing control and everyone was able to tell. He was giving up without even being aware of it. However, Kaoru wasn't giving up on Kyoya and it was evident as the boy stuck around and constantly made an effort to keep Kyoya from slipping too far beyond the line. Truthfully, Kyoya couldn't be more grateful for the younger teen and his efforts. It was comforting.

Kaoru didn't let the amounts of their dates dwindle as he claimed to be happy doing anything with Kyoya and the elder male was thankful for that. From the moment Kaoru made a silent promise to be with Kyoya through his hardships, Kyoya had decided he was at least going to try and fix his own problem. He had dedicated many hours of the night to researching helping himself. He had looked into many forms of therapy and different ways to get help on his own without a treatment center, realizing he'd have to go find help from someone else as the chances of him relapsing was higher if he tried to conduct his own treatment. He had to at least have people making sure he was actually eating, which wasn't too hard with the family he had.

It was still hard. Even with the amount of support he had, it was difficult and scary and there were moments where Kyoya thought it would just be better to revert back to his own self-abusive ways. He couldn't do that to the people around him, though. His ill brain still convinced him that people would hate him no matter what choice he chose but there was that weak voice of the logical part of his mind that told him this was the only way unless he preferred an early death. Too many people would be hurt by his own selfish need for control. 

He had to find a better way to get control now. A healthier way.


End file.
